Half Fade
by supposed rockstar
Summary: Tommy and Jude happened. Two years later, what happens when you settle for less?
1. This Time Never Seemed

**Author's Note Extraordinaire: **B is at it _again. _I've been writing insane little one-shots for the past age and a half and, given that _Lithium Crash _is on indefinite hiatus (i.e. I'm tired of it), I needed a chaptered piece to work on. This one is going to be simple - 86 on the metaphor attacks and super-grandiose language. I don't want to write the magnum opus of my life but I hope it'll turn out decent enough. More or less, I need to give myself hope for IS (or, a personal escape from the mindless _shit _IS is pushing). That and I really want to give into the little voice that wants me to write a T&J fic that's sans misogyny and Pitiful Jude.

**Title: **_Half Fade_  
**Summary: **Tommy and Jude happened. Two years later, what happens when you settle for less?  
**Rating: **T; may contain borderline M scenes and language.

Now that all of the preamble stuff is out of the way, let's see where we can take this...

xxx, b

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Chapter 1 / This Clock Never Seemed 

The perfectly creased cobalt pinstripe suit hung on his cedar hanger in such perfect contrast to the white closet door. A crisp fuchsia silk tie draped over the right shoulder, a startling match for the brilliant magenta rose for the lapel's buttonhole. Butter leather navy shoes lay at the bottom of the door waiting to run away. It was a scaled outline for its owner, Tom Quincy, for the twentieth birthday of a former Jude Harrison-Quincy.

Tommy dragged himself up from the edge of the bed, thinking of how the night would turn out. It wouldn't be a night of rainy kisses or heated passion in rickety elevators or secret trips to Vegas. The night would be sober and sobering, thoughtfully simple in its decadence. Darius, still master and lord of G-Major, had decided on a "closed-set" party: a handful of prestigious paparazzi, family, friends, and the elite amongst the staff only. No carnivals and ice cream cake pictures, it was going to be an over-the-top production honoring the official adulthood and return of the company's still rising star. Cristal would flow by the river-full and dark pink balloons would cover the concrete floor in waves. Tommy couldn't help but scoff at the color choice, remembering Jude to be a girl of black.

He walked to the ivory door and unhooked his suit, trailing to the expansive black granite bathroom. He let his bare feet endure the shock of cold tiling; turning the silver knob and allowing the scalding water to envelop him completely. He leaned into the wall, remembering the last time Jude had returned home. She'd been away to university, studying music to one day become a music teacher. It was April, spring break. He could still recall the scent of daisies in her neatly shortened blonde hair, her arms around his neck when she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and tell him "hello". He couldn't stop the sparks her tanned hands ignited as they slid over his shoulders and down his chest. They'd been divorced for only three months and he'd known her in every way possible up until that point, but he couldn't help but feel the same things he'd felt some age before. It was as if he hadn't seen her a few weeks before when he'd traveled to her college town for a brief visit.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the water turn cold until his teeth chattered painfully. He flipped the lever off, stepping out of his glass encasement. He wiped the fog from the mirror, surveying his nude body hunched over the bathroom sink. His fingers ran over the deep blemish on his broad chest, battle scar of the BoyzAttack! variety. He wondered if he was as attractive and vibrant as he had been ten years earlier. He picked at his shoulders, flaking skin from a bad sun burn he'd gotten during his vacation to San Tropez. He adjusted the thin gold chair around his neck, turning his tiny Saint Christopher medal outwards. He went through his post-shower ritual meticulously, finally emerging from the bathroom, leaving a faint aroma of wet moss and smoky eucalyptus in his wake.

6:45; a solid hour left before reunion and masquerades would commence. Tommy smiled sardonically at the clock, grabbing his cell phone and keys from the ebony end table and heading out to meet up with Kwest for finalizing the evening's music. He wistfully hoped that the night would drag on into surprises while falling into the beautiful ecstasy he knew it could very possibly be.


	2. Strapping Young Lass

Chapter 2 / Strapping Young Lass

The tight, hot pink bustier nipped and tucked Jude Harrison's already trim waist and stopped just short of her now womanly hips. Breasts were pushed up into overfilling and dangerous cleavage while softly bronzed legs were concealed at thigh height by skimming satin. She traced her fingers along the ribbon crosshatching and up to the simple knot at very top, pulling on the thin tendrils left to sway as she walked. She slipped her feet into the teetering stilettos, bending to buckle the rhinestone strap. She straightened herself up, putting a finishing touch to her short, waved hair: a diamond hairpin loaned to her from one of Darius's connections. She suppressed a laugh at her ensemble, taken back to the disastrous Crimson Party.

Grabbing a few essentials from the lavish hotel suite she was staying in, she shoved them into her tiny clutch. She left the hotel room, walking absentmindedly towards the elevator. The ride down was filled with empty thoughts and earlier times. Any other birthday on any other year, she would have felt nervous. She would have wondered what Tommy would think of her, if he thought she was beautiful, and if she could take his breath away. She would have been mentally preparing herself for impressing the tabloids' minions and making sure everyone around her was having a fabulous time, even if she wasn't. After the past couple of years, this had become old hat. She was used to everything buzzing all around her, how nothing was about her really, and she couldn't have given less of a damn what Tommy thought of her.

Apathy aside, she smiled to being back in the flock of G-Major and seeing her now closest friend after being away at college for so long. She smiled at the previous birthday and how she and Tommy bailed out of her party at the last minute. A completely impromptu idea, they took the red eye to Las Vegas and found themselves at an Elvis officiated wedding chapel. Rings comprised of switching stars and they married disheveled in jeans and t-shirts. Nothing serious or romantic for the lovers, they giggled and laughed hysterically during the entire ceremony. They finished it off with shoving yellow and white vanilla cupcakes in each other's faces, making a game out of who could clean the other up first. Even now, she could still taste the frosting on her lips and Tom's sandpaper stubble against her tongue as she lapped along his chin.

The elevator _dinged _and she stepped off confidently, walking with model's precision to the limo sent and waiting for her outside. The downtown Toronto night scene blurred into a streaming parade of white gold and scarlet, speckles of green and purple dotting the backdrop. High-rises rose in Titan heights, leaving the street an enclosed security blanket for the drivers and passengers weaving in and out of back ways and alleys at breakneck speed. Leave it to the unknown, behind-the-scenes coordinators to book the most exclusive night club for her celebration, _Tantric White, _and getting her boss and manager to make this a privatized gathering instead of a three-ring media circus. After the fiasco of her eighteenth and abandonment of her nineteenth, she was shocked anything was happening at all but with her belated junior album on the edge of dropping, this was a requisite. Still, it was going to be nice.

She was happy for the stocked limo and the tinted windows as she poured herself a small drink; there would be no sneaks waiting at red lights to snap pictures at the mysterious vehicle and its contents. She quietly toasted to herself and to the night she would make her own personal playground. Taking a dainty sip of her Grey Goose, she felt excited for the first time all week. Tonight would be her night of old friends, good drinks, and having a birthday go off beautifully. She even liked the outfit Portia picked out for her, loving the way she appeared to be more bold starlet instead of a child in Mommy's dress. She was finally a grown woman with an agenda and no one was going to step to her unless they felt like feeling her wrath.

The limo arrived shortly after departure in front of the club, the driver walking to her side of the car and granting her access to the blinding flashbulbs going off in a manic rate. She flashed a thousand watt smile, posing and winking at every interviewer who threw a question her way. She sauntered to the entrance, turned, and blew an uncharacteristic kiss to the crowd, a hurrah and cheer for making things happen.


	3. Baby's Black Balloons

I want to thank everyone for the reviews – especially Anni. She gives me so much _push _with my writing even if she hates that I write fan fiction. What can I say that hasn't already been said? All I will tell everyone is to watch out – one day I'll produce something so far from this drivel and you'll wonder where it came from.

Another thanks her way because she mentioned something that was completely unintentional – the clothing. I hate to say that I'll run with it, but it does make sense, eh? Clothes are your first indication for what is to come (or not come as some cases may be).

This chapter is to set up to a comparison/contrasting of sorts. See if you can pinpoint exactly what I mean.

I'll leave everyone with this: It isn't the party but the attitude and _that _is the point.

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Chapter 3 / Baby's Black Balloons 

Everyone waited by the door impatiently, the long hallway to the inner chamber winding. Jude emerged, arms outstretched in "The Ego has Landed" haughtiness and lips curled in pure amusement. She was ambushed with hugs and "Happy Birthdays". She laughed at their enthusiasm, parting them into select groups of familiarity.

She pulled Sadie into a tight embrace, matching in wavy meshing of knock-offs and last year's trend. She rose on flat slides, delicate oriental ornamentation across the thin straps. Her hair was pulled into a tight pony tail at the nape of her neck, smoothly hanging down her back and just above the low back of her black halter dress. A gentle platinum broach of rose diamonds accentuated the plunging neckline and was simultaneously attached to a contrasting platinum chain. No doubt a gift from Liam during their on period, they smiled at each other warmly.

"Fabulous as always, sis," Jude whispered loudly to her sister, releasing her to give her the once over. Sadie smiled again, shyly, giving Jude an approving nod.

"Portia did pretty good with her selection as well. Who knew you would turn into a knockout coat hanger for designer fare? Very nice, indeed."

"'Very nice, indeed' Sadie? Stay away from Liam. He's making you talk Brit, again." They laughed at their pleasant exchange in words, Jude stepping away to the man in question. She hugged him and Darius concurrently.

Equally dashing in matching dark Armani suits and pink button downs, Darius's half-unbuttoned and Liam's fastened to the top with a striped tie, they would have made the House proud. Darius's extravagant cufflinks glinted in the mood lighting of the club, catching Jude's eye in mesmerizing fashion.

"Ms. Harrison," Liam nodded at Jude in recognition. After nearly four years, they'd grown to know each other and even like each other to some degree. He wasn't as hard ass as everyone thought he was. No, in fact, he was pretty gooey on the inside. The wall between them crumbled when Liam wanted help gaining the upper hand on Kwest when the two were vying for Sadie's attention. A few late nights planning and plotting brought them to a comfortable plateau of "cool with each other".

"Mr. Fenway," Jude mimicked his nod, looking over to Darius. "Mr. Mills."

"Welcome back, Jude!" As hard he tried, Darius couldn't fight the zeal lining his voice. "Oh, and happy birthday."

Jude rolled her eyes in faux annoyance.

"Ok, for tonight? Let's forget this party has anything to do with my birthday. This was just a cheap way to get all of my people in the same room at the same time."

"Cheap? Do you know how much..." Darius trailed off at the end of his sentence, back tracking at the same time. "Never mind."

"Good. You know me and numbers aren't friends."

Jude spent the next ten minutes meeting and greeting everyone around her. She was happy to see her mother, father and their respective spouses after spending the last six months away from them at Concordia. Kwest and Portia rushed to her side with lots of cheek kissing, Portia never stepping out of the stylist role as she smoothed out Jude's wrinkling dress. Jude had to shoo her away and tell her that she was meant to be free from beautifying responsibilities and sent her off with Kwest to partake in the champagne being passed around. Jaime and Patsy, still together after three years, smiled at her in recognition, forever the epitome of grunge glam. Patsy's ripped cherry tights under fishnets complimented Jaime's spiked cuff. Kat stood next to them, gorgeous as ever in her now widely known and respected original design of tulle and leather.

Jude marched on towards Tommy, not bothering with hellos or anything of that sort. She hooked her arm through his, and pulled him away from the group now dispersing. Once out of ear shot and eye shot, she kissed him affectionately on his earlobe, a favorite hot spot she'd discovered in the hall of his apartment building.

"Jesus, girl! Nice to see you, too." He shuddered visibly but shook it off arrogantly. "Happy..."

"Don't say it! If I hear it one more time, I'm going to smack the person who said it. Then again, you always did like it rough." She contemplated her innuendo for a second, before drawing him in close. "Two months is way too long. How have you been?"

"Good, but better now."

She didn't even bother to acknowledge what he was trying to say nor did she take impressive notice of his hands running along the invisible eye-hooks of her corset. She took in the sight he was giving her, smirking at the same time.

"I never knew you were a man of pink, Quincy."

"I could say the same about you."

"Yeah, well, things happen when you're in college. Hell, I even passed Math 101!"

"Now that's one report card I wouldn't mind framing." He laughed while she jabbed him in the ribs. She deftly grabbed at two glasses on a passing tray, handing one off to her partner.

"To tonight, Tommy..." She tilted her glass in a pantomimed clink, swigging back the expensive blonde liquid.

He gave her a demure smile before drawling out the toast dreamily. "To tonight..."


	4. Tippin’ on Four Fours

Heh... remember, children: I like unraveling tidiness.

And this damn title really is just... _Bri. _

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Chapter 4 / Tippin' on Four Fours 

Was the night eventful? Was the night chaotic, dramatic, quixotic? Was the night something for soldiers to write home to their sweethearts about? Sure, maybe, kind of. It was fun and easy and what all birthdays should be; nothing at all like the pervious ones. The unimportant people began clearing out by 2am while the others kept going well past four. Endless chitchat about new albums and Jude moving back to the small apartment she'd rented out on the west end of Toronto mingled in amidst old war stories and laughs of grandiosity. If all parties up until then had been the cloud, tonight was the silver lining.

The moon was beginning to fade into the backdrop of the skyline as Jude and Tommy said their final farewells to the guests who were too tired to stand let alone drive. Sometime around one, Jude had brought about the discussion of spending the night together to further catch-up, Tommy skillfully dodging exasperated "come on's" and flirtatious "you know you want to's" but finally relenting and agreeing to the plan. He knew that it must have looked odd seeing as they'd spent countless occasions at each other's apartments for nightly and often week long sleepovers, but he knew this wasn't the same.

They arrived silently and sleepily to Jude's hotel and ascended up to her room. Jude keyed the door and they both fell into the room.

"You can look in that suitcase," Jude motioned toward a large rolling case against a dresser, "for a shirt. I'm pretty sure one of yours is in there."

Tommy nodded dumbly, leaving the loveseat to rifle through the case. He was immediately overcome with familiar band tees and faded jeans; finally pulling out the oversized shirt he'd seen her wear one too many times. The arms had been cut off and the hem was unraveling, it's once pristine black reduced to an over-washed grey. Orange paint was splattered across the front while white paint lent itself to decorating the back.

"Tommy?" He looked up to see her arms thrust behind her back, elbows bent in severe angles. "Will you undo this damn thing? I'm not even sure how I got in it! There has to be a million hooks back there!"

"Yeah, no problem." He threw the shirt across the small sofa, coming up behind Jude. She sucked in her stomach, his fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps. He struggled after the tenth hook, growing frustrated with it. "You know? Next time, demand a zipper."

She laughed, feeling the last one give way to freedom and a deep breath. He stared down at her bared back, unconsciously running his hand along the indention of her spine. Even now, even after everything, he loved the feeling of her skin against his hands.

"Thank god!" Jude pushed the dress down from her chest and over her hips, stepping out of and clearing the deathly "contraption". "I thought I was never getting out of that dress!"

She turned around, breasts and thighs and everything exposed, and walked to the opened pack Tommy had just rummaged through. Tommy blinked hard at the mental images invading his brain, trying hard not to look at Jude knelt on the floor. He scratched nervously along his forehead, screwing his eyes tightly shut, Jude looking over and chuckling at his distress.

"Oh, PLEASE! You've seen me in a lot less than panties. Chill!" She threw one of her shorter shirts over herself, striding up in front of the still closed-eyes Tom. "Are you going to sleep in your monkey suit or do you want to change?" He mumbled that he'd "change in a second" and to his surprise, she yanked cleanly on his tie.

His eyes flew open while she just grinned and walked towards the bathroom. He went to work undressing, getting down to Jockeys and sliding into the faded t-shirt. He lay down on the bed yet couldn't manage to get Jude's figure out of his head. He tried focusing on the color of the curtains and the wood grain of the night stand and the pattern of the couch to no avail. He knew that if he didn't stop his thoughts soon, it was be one very long, much unfulfilled night ahead of him. Still, her blatant comments weren't lost on him.

Jude had always made a joke out of her sexuality, Tommy thinking it had something to do with nerves or inferiority complexes. The first time they'd had sex, she'd giggled a good week afterwards. She took every opportunity to throw out a secret, yet obscene, comment his way but if he reciprocated his comedienne, she'd blush furiously and tell him to shut up. Always Jude, she could dish it but taking it was a lot harder to swallow.

His eyes followed her as she walked around the bed and flopped down next to him, leaning against him and smiling distantly.

"When was the last time we did this?"

He thought for a moment, trying to recall when they _had _done this and he could only see long, swirling flaxen hair. He fingered one of her stray strands, messaging at its softness.

"You had long hair is all I know."

"That long?" She asked incredulously. "And to think you didn't want to do this. Silly Quincy..."

He puffed out his chest, defiant to her moniker for him. "Well, yeah... because... you know."

"Yeah; you still want me."

"Maybe..." He lingered reminiscently, letting the word hang in the air comfortably. The truth was that he _did _still want her but it wasn't easy for them anymore. Not that it had ever been easy in the first place, but now was a totally different thing. Too much seen, too much done, and too much been through, it was beyond admitting that you still wanted someone and vice versa.

"Remember last year when you decided to dye your hair red again?" He broke the quiet with probably the most random, neutral thing he could come up with. Jude stifled a throaty laugh at the disastrous use of highlighting cream.

"Baby, my hair wasn't red. It was this insane mix of blonde and neon pink. It took three boxes of bleach to get that stuff out. I _still _shudder in the hair color aisle."

"No one told you to use red dye for **dark **hair."

"Yes, well, the lady said it would just be bright. I didn't think her version of bright was watermelon Kool-Aid."

Tommy chortled loudly, thinking of the first time he'd seen her after the dying affair. It was one of those weekend trips and she wouldn't come out of the bathroom until he swore on his grandmother's head that he wouldn't laugh. Man, he prayed hard after that, hoping his grandmother would be okay for killing the promise.

"It didn't help matters that it _smelled _like watermelon Kool-Aid, huh? What was that stuff you used anyway?" They thought for a moment before both busting out with "Sephora Smoothing Balm". A fit of hysterics filled the room as they remembered the horrid amount of bees the styling product attracted. "Man, I missed you."

His voice came out more melancholy than he'd wished, hoping it would seem like more of an enjoyment of company instead of idealistically needy. Jude settled into the eerie silence his comment created. Tommy kicked himself for saying it out loud, for thinking it at all.

"Always good to know, but I'm back now so no need to miss me." She smirked while pushing herself to her side of the bed. "But now we sleep because tons of champagne and 5am doesn't equal a good moving day. Lord knows you hate waking up before noon on Sunday."

"You're right about that. Night, Jude." Tommy shifted smoothly beside her, flicking off the bedside lamp and the pair pulling the heavy comforter around them. Jude leaned over and pecked his earlobe for the final time that night, pulling back on a wink as he stiffly adjusted his shoulders into the mattress.

"Night, Tommy." Soon, he fell to sleep while Jude lay awake still, watching on admiringly amused. "Silly Quincy..."


	5. 26 Years, 17 Days

I'll hand it to everyone – 11 reviews for Ch4. I'm damn impressed! And thank you to everyone. I actually forgot I updated this story (seeing as I'd written this chapter a couple of hrs after I wrote Ch3) and then BAM. There are all these reviews and I was tripping. Haha... Thanks for giving me a moment of cheeriness and an ego boost on a dog day at the Stone.

As for this story: Talking to my girl A helped me to think about where this story will go. It isn't a double stuffed Oreo yet, but HEY! I always have time to cook up some frosting. A part of me is enjoying how "clean" I've written this while I'm dying inside to make stupid refs to birds and fruit for metaphors. Screw that! I told you I wouldn't and I won't. I'll tell you all now that it's very straight-forward right now for a reason. Honesty comes with age, ya know.

This chapter, btw, is _trying _to showcase an angle. We're getting into the current psyches of our protagonists slowly but surely. And don't you love when the "Big Moment" happens in the beginning and it all works for the resolution? Oh yes... Demented foreshadowing...

I'll shut up now because I could write a damn epic about what I feel about this story, etc.

Enjoy...

PS: I told myself that I'd name this chapter after the first song that popped up on my launchCAST and I kind of freaked for 3 seconds. (Then Jared called me and called me "girl" and that amused me greatly. Trust me, though – the whole "girl", "boy" calling thing is so southern.) The title is from Lyfe Jennings. Shut up – Hip Hop is IT.

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Chapter 5 / 26 Years, 17 Days 

"Tommy... Tommy!" Jude had been calling his name for what felt like forever. She finally nudged Tommy in his back roughly, squinting to her over-brightened room. She tried wiggling her fingers only to realize that her hand had gone immobile from numbness. She looked at him contemptuously. "Tommy, for God's sake, get the hell off of my arm!"

"Mmm... Arm... Yeah... Sure..." He grumbled loudly, still asleep as he rolled over, draping his arm across her chest. His hand automatically went under her shirt, stroking small concentric circles along the base of her ribs. He moaned softly into her shoulder and muffled some strange confirmation. "Arm..."

Pinned at the elbow and annoyed with his misunderstanding of her request, she did the only thing she knew would wake him up: she smacked him. He jolted immediately, half-jumping up and half-falling off the bed. She shook out her arm, rubbing the huge red imprint his cheek left.

"What? Huh? What time is it? Why did you hit me?" He sat back on his heels, confused and scratching at his head.

Jude remained silent but swung her legs over the side of the bed, bending backwards in a huge stretch and cracking her back at the same time. She _tsked _loudly and walked over to his side of the bed, reaching for and rubbing along the prickly heat of his face.

"You were on my arm and it was _dead. _You also managed to cop a free feel too." She ran her palm through his hair, trying fruitlessly to smooth out the wild kinks the jutted out from every possible direction. She playfully grabbed a chunk and pulled him to look at her. "What did I tell you about sleeping on my arm, _boy? _ And it's noon."

She let go, chuckling, and walked towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower. Go ahead and order room service. Black coffee for me; order whatever you want." She looked over her shoulder, grinning. "It's all on D, anyway."

Jude retreated into the bathroom, Tommy getting up and walking to the phone while kneading his jaw. He grumbled loudly against Jude's belting from the shower, still tired and now in a fading pain.

"Noon? Morning to you, too..."

* * *

The cart sat abandoned at the foot of the bed, deep burgundy napkins lying precariously atop the simple white china and sterling flatware. Half of a croissant peeked out from beneath the woven sheath, splashes of espresso soaking into the pastry. Two demitasse cups sat closely next to each other, drained and waiting for their next filling. White sugar dusted over the center of the tray and gave the entire thing a glistening.

Jude and Tommy chattered casually as they left the depleted food and started to pack up her strewn bits and pieces from around the room. Every now and then, laughter would fill the room after a bad joke was thrown out. Tommy sighed good-naturedly yet it was leaded with flip-flopping thoughts. Jude caught his sigh, eyes narrowed to the vibes surrounding it.

"What's up?" She stopped her hunting and gathering to study his unusually heavy facial expression.

"Just thinking." He reached for a heather grey camisole under the edge of the bed and threw it into the classic cocoa and gold Vuitton suit case in front of him. "Why weren't we ever something... _more_?"

Jude returned to her easily laborious task of rounding up her lost belongings and nearly dismissed the question.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Jude. Why didn't we ever take that next step?"

"Oh, that..." She stopped in her mock realization, caressing the wrinkles in her birthday dress. She looked over to him, calm and straight-faced. "Because we settled for less."

Tommy looked at her skeptically and couldn't fully understand her brief explanation. She shrugged indistinctly and dropped the dress back to the floor.

"Listen, Tommy. You and me? We rushed into things. We weren't even tight friends again before we started screwing each other six ways from Sunday. It was crazy from the beginning, but it worked for us. Chill, screw, hangout, sleep, wake up going at it."

"But we got past that..."

"Yes, but it was still simple. We could be completely cool and open while not having to be bothered with all of the stupid relationship crap. Hell! Our 'marriage' was a joke. We did it to piss off Darius and to stir up the media."

Her words catapulted him into an agitated stupor. He couldn't help but wonder if she thought it was all he was after and, if so, he realized that maybe she didn't know him as well as he'd preached once before. He met her gaze and gave way to bluntness.

"Were you ok with that because it was what you wanted or because you thought it was what I wanted?"

"It was a little bit of both. It doesn't matter, though. What's done is done."

"It does matter!" He let go of a fervent hiss, allowing him to get back into the somber atmosphere that blended with the midday sunlight. "During all of this, I wanted something more but it seemed so pointless after a while. Even those two and a half weeks that we were 'Mr. and Mrs. Quincy' I kept thinking it was real. I wanted it to be real."

Jude took the time to nod and kneel before him, taking hold of the tank he was twisting into a tight rope.

"Maybe," she folded the garment and placed it gently to the side. "Maybe in the beginning, it wasn't what I wanted but it's what I want now."

If at all possible, his shoulders sagged lower, unable to believe this was definite defeat.

"It was easy, Tommy, and easy was my ultimate goal after so long. You got me and I got you. Baby..." She let her fingers trail down his chest before rising to her feet once again. "We got each other. Why does it have to be complicated now?" She turned her back to him, examining a small perfume bottle on the edge of the dresser.

He let her have her faceless moment but only wanted to match words with visual emotion.

"Maybe I want it complicated..." The breath hit his lips with burning disdain.

"Who knows, though, right?" She fidgeted with the little things that kept her focus off of him. "Who knows...?"

No matter how frustrated or angry he was at the outcome of their "relationship" her rhetorical musing gave him some sort of criminal hope. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity at the reversal. When did he begin demanding things from distant admirers? When did he morph into the mooning crooner squawking for the production's true meaning to the listener? It _was _comical, after all. She seemed to have mastered the skill and he knew he was the teacher of such mastery.


End file.
